Fortune's Child
by coyotelaughing
Summary: A slave girl is brought aboard the Enterprise for medical treatment. Chapter 8 up.
1. In which wages are won and lost

~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Ha!" Sulu's shout of triumph rang out across the recreation deck. His companions threw their cards down in disgust as the helmsman collected his winnings. "That's five credits from you, Doc, and seven from the Captain..."  
  
Kirk scowled good-naturedly as he handed over his money. "I find it hard to believe you learned to play this game yesterday, Mr. Sulu."  
  
"Believe it," McCoy grumbled as he gathered the cards and chips. "Rigellian Wormhole took me years to master, and he won after five minutes of practice!"  
  
Sulu grinned as Chekov handed him a handful of credit-tokens. The young Russian shook his head sadly. "That's the last of my vages, Sulu."  
  
"Sorry, Chekov," the Asian replied, somewhat contritely. "But next Friday is payday. You'll have plenty of credits to lose."  
  
There was a string of curses in Russian, and a friendly scuffle ensued. Kirk leaned back in his chair as he and McCoy watched the two young men wrestle.  
  
"It's nice to relax once in a while, isn't it, Bones?" the Captain remarked. The doctor nodded, watching the horseplay with a wry smile.  
  
"I'll bet you four credits that Sulu takes him down."  
  
Kirk shook his head. "All right, Bones, but I think you'll be sorry. Chekov's tougher than he looks." He saw a familiar face pass by the rec. hall doors. "Mr. Spock!" he called.  
  
Spock crossed the room in several strides, his long-legged gait allowing him to walk calmly at speed equal to another man's run  
  
"Yes, Captain?"  
  
"Why don't you join us, Spock?" Kirk gestured to the chair next to him. "I've got four credits on Chekov. Care to place a bet?"  
  
The Vulcan raised an elegant eyebrow as Sulu jumped a chair to avoid a sucker punch. "I do not." He held up the PADD in his hand. "I have a report to finish on the ion storm phenomenon. If you will excuse me, Captain, Doctor." With a respectful nod to both men, he turned and strode toward the doors.  
  
McCoy sighed. "That Spock. He's about as much fun as a Calculus exam."  
  
Jim laughed. "He's just efficient, that's all. The rest of us would do well to learn from his example." Just as he finished speaking, Sulu called out laughingly, "All right, Pavel! I give up!"  
  
Chekov took his knee off the other man's chest and offered him a hand. "You know, Sulu, wrestling vas a Russian inwention."  
  
Sulu groaned. "Just like the rest of the universe, I'm sure."  
  
The captain happily collected his credit-chips. "No fair," McCoy muttered. "Sulu was being easy on him."  
*****  
Spock reclined on his couch, stroking the smooth wood of his harp.  
  
It was a family heirloom, worth as much in sentimental value as it was in money. But its most redeeming feature was not its worth, nor its aesthetically beautiful exterior. It was the music that could be created by graceful fingers on the strings.  
  
At the age of seven Spock performed a concerto for his mother that brought her to tears. He gave several public performances in his later years, which she did not attend for fear of disgracing herself before her husband's people.  
  
Spock was most at ease while making music. The harp said for him what he could not, safely releasing the emotions that he himself would not dare to recognize.  
  
But he did not feel like playing now. He recalled his captains' invitation in the recreation room, then looked over at the PADD on his desk. He had not lied - there was a report he had to finish - but it was not due for several weeks. In truth, he did not know why he had turned down his friend's offer. Now he felt lost; his room seemed so big, so empty. He closed his eyes and began to meditate, trying to alleviate the uneasy feeling tugging at the corners of his mind.  
  
I am a stranger in a strange land.  
  
The biblical verse surfaced in his memory, burning itself into his consciousness. He knew what he was, though, ashamed, he did not want to acknowledge it. He was lonely. 


	2. Consequences of Life

Chapter 2  
Consequences of Life  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
The girl paused a moment. She closed her eyes as the water she carried sloshed in its buckets. They were balanced on either end of the staff across her shoulders, making them easier to bear, but the load was still heavy.  
  
She shifted her weight onto her strong left leg as she set the buckets down, her clubfoot aching. Her right leg was crooked, her ankle twisted and her foot scarred and bent. She had been crippled from birth.  
  
She was small - perhaps more so than her age would warrant - and thin from lack of food. But for her deformity and the cruelty with which she had been treated, the girl was very lovely.  
  
Her skin was smooth and rosy, unlike that of many who lived beneath Fortune's glaring double suns, and wisps of dark, wavy hair framed her face. Her lips were full and her pale green eyes were heavy-lidded under a thick black fringe of lashes. Her nose was faintly ridged, her ears sharply pointed, hinting at a considerably diverse heritage. Only her disfigured leg marred her beauty, but perhaps this made her lucky.  
  
A healthy, beautiful girl could fare far worse than one deformed or ugly. In this society, her imperfection was also her security.  
  
"Girl!" A man's rough voice carried from the hut up ahead back to the dirt path where she stood. "Girl! Where is my water! If my pots are ruined...!" He let the threat trail off.  
  
The girl hoisted the staff onto her shoulders and began to walk as quickly as she dared and as steadily as she could.  
But as she neared the adobe building her bare foot caught a stone and she fell, taking the buckets with her. They crashed to the ground and landed on a newly-glazed pot. The pot exploded into shards and the water soaked into the thirsty earth, leaving only steam behind. Her master came rushing out of the house.  
  
"You clumsy slave, what have you done now!?"  
The huge Cardassian stopped at the door, his face turning a terrifying shade of purple. He yanked the girl off the floor and struck her face with the back of his hand. The girl's vision clouded; the sharp tang of blood was on her lips.  
  
"This pot was newly made! Do you know what you have cost me?" He struck her again, so hard she felt her ears ring. The Cardassian lifted her into the air by the leather slave collar round her neck and shook her violently.  
  
"That pot took me three days to make! And you destroyed it in a second!" He hurled her against the wall of the courtyard where she landed with a thump. "We'll see how clumsy you are after a week of no food!" He roared, then turned on his heel and disappeared inside.  
  
The girl could barely see. She knew through the haze that clouded her mind that none of her bones were broken. She had been lucky. Though her ribs would be terribly bruised, there were no serious injuries.  
  
A moan escaped her lips as she pulled her clubfoot from beneath her. Her master would be back soon, she knew, and most likely in no better a mood. Until he did, she would concentrate her energies on healing herself. She would live. That was all she could hope for.  
  
*****  
  
Spock stretched his lanky body, feeling his skin tighten under the wonderful warmth of Fortune's twin suns. F-gamma-2, informally known as Fortune, was on the border of the Cardassian and Federation spaces, and had been colonized by each.  
  
The dry, unforgiving heat reminded Spock of his home planet. While his friends grumbled and stripped down to their undershirts, he was quite comfortable. He spent most of his time on the Enterprise freezing cold, except when he was in his quarters, which were a balmy 95 degrees.  
  
He did not understand why his crewmates complained. Here he felt like a lizard shedding its skin. Like the rest of his fellows, he wore light pants and a short-sleeved shirt, but not to cool down, only to feel the warmth of the suns on his bare skin.  
  
Whatever else Fortune may or may not be, it was certainly a comfortable planet for a Vulcan.  
  
"And they say Hell is hot," McCoy grumbled from Spock's left.  
  
"Not as hot as Fortune," Kirk answered. "I feel like I'm melting."  
  
The Enterprise crew was on this dry, sweltering cesspool of criminal activities for one reason only - the ship was in dire need of repairs. It was dry-docked, receiving a tune-up, and the crew had taken this opportunity to get out and 'stretch their legs'.  
Uhura and her friends had gone shopping in the marketplace and Sulu and Chekov had made a beeline to the nearest bar, planning to drink themselves into oblivion. The three senior officers were content to wander the sun- baked plaza, drinking in the sights and sounds.  
  
Fortune was a refuge for people of all races and walks of life. Ferengi merchants bought and sold, Bajoran minstrels played a lively tune on the street corner, and dirty children raced half-naked through the walkways, playing the universally understood game of tag. Andorians and Klingons settled their differences with their fists as a Romulan metal-smith beat a lump of carbonite into a sword.  
  
The air was thick with languages, all overlapping and intertwined. Obscenities were screamed in Hebitian, gossip was traded in Standard, and a Yridian drinking song floated out of a nearby tavern. Spock fought the instinct to cover his ears. The noise nearly overwhelmed his acute sense of hearing.  
  
The three friends walked on to the end of the boulevard where the bazaar's noises were less overpowering and sat underneath a shade tree, munching on juicy passion-fruit.  
  
Spock had just closed his eyes, intent on enjoying the welcome heat, when he heard something that caused them to snap open again. He listened carefully and this time was sure of what he'd heard - the hoarse moaning of a child in terrible pain.  
  
"Jim. Can you hear that?" he asked his friend. Kirk, too, listened closely.  
  
"I hear something. Sounds like a kitten crying."  
  
"I do not believe it is a kitten. Shall we investigate?" the Vulcan asked.  
  
McCoy jumped to his feet. "Maybe this kitten of yours will take us somewhere cool," he said, following his friends toward a group of houses at the end of the road.  
  
"I think you have come to a wrong conclusion," Spock remarked as they followed the dirt road around a corner and towards the mud-brick fence of the last hut. "My sense of hearing is sharper than either of yours, and I do not believe that the sound belonged to a kitten. It more closely resemble the cry of a -"  
  
All three men stopped still in their tracks as the courtyard of the house unfolded before them. "A child?" Jim finished quietly. "Yes," Spock affirmed, while McCoy gaped silently.  
  
The being in question was slumped against the adobe wall. Her clothing - a half-sleeved shift that just covered her knees - was dirty and torn, and the skin that was visible was mottled with bruises. Bones rushed forward, pulling out his med scanner.  
  
"My God," he exclaimed, reading the screen. "She's nearly dead! We've got to get her back to the ship!"  
  
Just then, the Cardassian stepped out of his house.  
  
"Who's there?" he asked suspiciously in Hebitian. Seeing the doctor, he switched to Standard. "You! Get away from my slave!"  
  
Kirk frowned. "Slave? I didn't know slavery was legal on Federation planets."  
  
The Cardassian laughed. "Everything's legal on Fortune, outsider. Now what are you doing on my property?"  
  
"We heard your...slave crying and came to investigate. We thought there might be trouble." Kirk kept his demeanor calm but casually laid his hand on his phaser. Beside him Spock did the same.  
  
The big man laughed. "The only trouble here is that girl," he said, waving a hand at the figure by which McCoy crouched, taking readings on his scanner. "She's a cripple, can't do a damn thing right. She's clumsy as an ox."  
  
"What are you going to do with her?" McCoy asked with the pretense of friendship. "She seems nearly useless."  
  
The Cardassian shrugged, eager to talk now that he saw the men as no threat. "I figure I'll sell her to the coal mines, or maybe to a breeder. She'd be perfect but for her leg. As it is-"  
  
"I will buy her." Three heads turned to stare at Spock. A fourth, with unfocused eyes, lifted to see him as well.  
  
"You want to buy this cripple?" Spock nodded as an answer to the man's question. "Well, alright, though I don't know what use she could be. Let me get her papers." He disappeared into the hut, and came back with a few sheets of glyph-paper.  
  
Spock handed the man a bag of credit-chips, which he stared at greedily. The Vulcan accepted the papers and then joined the doctor by the wall.  
  
"If you would be so kind as to hold these for me..." he murmured, handing the papers to Bones as he scooped the girl into his arms. Kirk, still in shock, pulled out his comm link.  
  
"Scotty, three to beam directly to sick bay. Energize."  
  
"Aye aye, captain." In a blinding flash of light, they were gone.  
  
* The Cardassian chuckled as they dematerialized. The Vulcan had given him 18 credits - more than the price of a healthy, full-grown male, much less that of a crippled girl! She had brought him some luck, after all. 


	3. Poor Little Waif

Chapter 3  
Poor Little Waif  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
The girl on the med table was painfully thin. Her ribs showed through the fabric of her shift and the skin over her wrists was stretched tight. She seemed to be made of little more than bones and bruises. Kirk and Spock stood by as Bones and several nurses worked.  
  
McCoy shook his head as he stared at the images and readouts flashing on the screen of the med-scanner.  
  
"She's alive, but barely. Poor diet, sickness, abuse..." He looked over his shoulder at Spock. "This may not be the best investment you've ever made."  
  
The scanner hovering over her reached her lower legs, and the screen began to flood with charts and blinking red letters.  
  
McCoy frowned. He punched in a command and a 3-D image of the girl's skeleton was projected into the air before him. He tapped the viewscreen and the image zeroed in on the lower part of her right leg.  
  
"Look at this," he said, highlighting in red the bones of the calf and foot. "Congenital birth defect. The tibia's completely twisted and bowed out and the tarsals are pointing in the wrong direction."  
  
"A clubfoot?" One of the nurses, putting away her hypospray, looked up in shock. "But we've been able to correct birth defects for centuries!"  
  
"I know," McCoy answered grimly. "But they apparently don't have much access to medical technology on F-gamma-2."  
  
"Is it possible to reverse it now?" the captain asked. He and Spock were trying to stay out of the way, but neither wanted to leave.  
  
"Well, yes, but I'm afraid to do anything at the moment. She's so weak; it might do more harm than good." Bones sighed and leaned against the med table, gazing at the frail being before him. "Poor little waif," he murmured. "Looks like she hasn't had a decent meal in her life. "By the way, Spock," he said, glancing at the science officer, "Does this kitten of yours have a name?"  
  
The Vulcan looked down at the papers in his hand for the first time.  
  
"She is neither a feline nor my possession," he said, mostly to himself, as he glanced over them. "Her name is Atira Mikal, and she is seventeen solar years old. She is the child of a Romulan free citizen and a Bajoran / Human concubine."  
  
"Romulan-Human-Bajoran, did you say? She's got the Romulan ears, but her facial features are human. Bajorans are characteristically smaller than either, and so is she."  
  
The doctor mused over the readouts on the viewscreen, than nodded decisively.  
  
"Right. She'll be fine. Oh, by the way, Atira is a Bajoran name. If I'm right, her surname is first, in the Bajoran tradition."  
  
Kirk left shortly afterwards to sleep a few hours before regaining command of the bridge. McCoy retired to his quarters later, leaving the sickbay in the hands of several nurses. Spock, however, could not bring himself to leave.  
  
"I will stay with Mikal," he told the doctor, his dark eyes solemn. "I do not want her to awaken alone." So the Vulcan sat in the softly lit sickbay, watching over the small being that had somehow become his charge. He folded his hands in his lap and studied the still form.  
  
Despite her obvious frailty, there was some strength in the girl's expression. She shivered and Spock got up to tuck the covers of the medical bed more firmly about her shoulders. In doing so his fingers brushed the leather collar that encircled her throat. It was a visible sign of her enslavement, of the cruelty that this child had endured.  
  
In a rare moment of unthinking action, Spock grabbed the exoscalpel from the supply bin and cut it away.  
  
A hand grabbed his arm.  
  
Suddenly he was staring into huge, unblinking eyes. Mikal began to speak in Hebitian. This was not a language Spock knew. He looked at her, uncomprehending. She switched to a throaty, guttural dialect he'd never heard before. Finally she began to plead with him in Vulcan.  
  
"Please do not hurt me! I do not know where I am. I mean no harm to thee. Please, let me go!" She was extremely agitated, and tried to leave the bed. Spock raised a hand to stop her and she flinched sharply. When he did not strike her, she looked up at him questioningly.  
  
"I will not hurt thee," he said in Vulcan. "Thee is a guest aboard the starship Enterprise. I will guard thee."  
  
She lay back upon the bed, but fear still shone in her eyes. She has known nothing but fear all her life, Spock realized with a pang.  
  
"How is it that thee speak the Vulcan tongue?" he asked. "Thee is not Vulcan."  
  
She did not answer, but regarded him warily.  
  
"Do thee speak Standard?" Hesitantly, she nodded.  
  
"I am Spock of the SS Enterprise. You are in the sickbay, being treated for your wounds. I am watching over you," he said in the same.  
  
Hearing this, she seemed to relax. "Thee may call me Mika," she murmured in Vulcan before falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.  
  
Both guardian and guarded were found that morning fast asleep, Mika in the hospital bed and Spock in the chair beside it.  
***  
McCoy stood by the girl's bed, checking her vitals on the screen  
above. Everything was  
normal.  
She's probably hungry, he thought. I'll have one of the nurses bring  
some food.  
  
Mika awoke several minutes later to find the doctor seated next to her  
bed. Her  
gaze went immediately to the tray on his lap. There was a roll of  
bread, a bowl of tomato  
soup and a plate of various fruits. She sat up, eyeing the food  
hungrily.  
  
"Would you like some?" McCoy asked. When she gave no response, he  
handed her the tray.  
  
She looked at him warily, and then snatched it out of his hands. She  
began to tear hungrily  
into the bread, pausing only to take huge gulps of the hot soup.  
Knife, spoon, and fork lay  
dormant as the she devoured the meal. McCoy watched in amazement as the food disappeared. Within two minutes it was gone, and  
she was licking the last of the tomato soup from her fingers.  
  
"Well, I'll take that to mean you're hungry," the doctor said,  
grinning. "Nurse Chapel, a refill  
on this tray, please!"  
***  
McCoy sat at his desk with only have his mind on the PADD in  
his hands. The other half  
was concentrating on the patient in the other room.  
  
She didn't speak, didn't interact with people at all, except to flinch  
when they came near. She  
ate like she was afraid someone would snatch her food away. She  
didn't answer to her  
name, didn't make eye contact, didn't smile or frown. She just sat on  
the hospital bed  
like a vegetable.  
  
Maybe Spock got something out of her last night, he thought to  
himself. After all, ol'  
Pointy-ears does have a way with the ladies... Chuckling to himself, he  
turned on his comm  
on and requested the bridge.  
  
***  
Spock stood in the doctors' study with Kirk, watching the girl  
through the sickbay window.  
She was immobile on her bed, for all the world like an android shut  
down.  
  
"She did speak to me last night," the Vulcan said, "In several  
languages at first.  
One was Hebitian. If I am correct, the other was Klingon."  
  
"Klingon!" McCoy exclaimed, startled. "How in hell would she know  
Klingon?!"  
  
Spock frowned slightly. "Your surprise is irrational, Doctor. Did we  
not see beings of many  
races on the planet F-gamma-2? It is possible that she learned to  
speak Klingon, as well as  
Hebitian, Vulcan, and Standard, from an earlier Master."  
  
"Vulcan, did you say?" Kirk murmured. "That's interesting. Were you  
able to talk to her in  
it?"  
  
"I spoke to her in both Vulcan and Standard, but she answered only  
in Vulcan. It is possible  
that she does not feel comfortable speaking Standard."  
  
"Seems to me she doesn't seem comfortable speaking at all!" McCoy  
said.  
  
Jim turned to his first officer. "Spock, why don't you see if you can  
get something out of her."  
  
Spock entered the room. The girl's old, dirty shift had been taken  
from her and replaced by  
pale blue pants and a tunic.  
  
He approached the bed and knelt beside it.  
  
"Mika. Do thee remember me?" he asked in Vulcan.  
She made no reply, but kept staring at bedspread. He took her chin in  
his hand and gently  
raised her head.  
  
"I am Spock. Do not be afraid. No one here will hurt thee."  
  
She looked up at him, her pale silvery-green eyes locking with his  
deep brown ones.  
  
He did not move as she reached up to touch his face.  
Her fingers explored the bridge of his nose, moving up across his  
cheek to smooth out the  
wrinkles in his forehead.  
  
Spock shivered as she unwittingly stroked his psi points. He felt the  
brush of a mind against  
his own, a consciousness looked within itself, seeking escape. Feeling  
the touch of his  
psyche against her own, she suddenly withdrew. She yanked her hand  
back and their  
tentative link ended.  
  
Kirk slipped quietly through the door, followed by McCoy. He walked slowly towards the bed, careful not to frighten the skittish girl.  
  
"I am Captain Kirk of the U.S.S Enterprise. You are welcome here."  
  
She stared at him, then looked at Spock, as if for reassurance. He nodded, and she reached her hand out to the Captain. He touched his palm to hers.  
  
"Captain...Kirk?" She parroted, rolling the 'r'.  
  
A smile spread across the captain's face. "Yes! And this is Dr. McCoy."  
  
She put out her hand to the doctor. He coughed, unsure of what to do. "Bones," Jim chided. "Take her hand."  
  
He did. "Doctor McCoy," she said. "...Bones?"  
  
Jim laughed, a warm, unexpected sound. "Yes, that's Bones."  
  
She looked back at Spock. "Thee is - Spock?" She asked in Vulcan.  
  
"Yes, I am Spock."  
  
"I...am Mika. Thank you." She looked at all three men, then, apparently satisfied with her use of Standard, she lay back in her bed and closed her eyes.  
  
The three friends stood there for several moments.  
  
"Well, that's that," McCoy said finally. He cast a sly look at Spock. "Well, you green-blooded hobgoblin! I think she's taken a liking to you!"  
  
"That is highly unlikely," Spock said, frowning, "As she has only  
known me for  
approximately one point-three solar days."  
  
Kirk shook his head at his friends' familiar arguing.  
"Come on, gentlemen, let's leave the young lady to her rest."  
***  
In the back of the sickbay, Nurse Chapel was cleaning the medical  
instruments, scowling.  
She had watched the girl and Spock interact, and it had put her in a  
terrible mood.  
  
She had long loved Spock with no interest, not even any  
acknowledgment, from him, and now  
this girl enters the picture. He notices her! What does that little  
waif have that I don't? she  
asked herself miserably. 


	4. Stories of Several Varieties

Chapter 4  
Disclaimer: I own Mika. That's it.  
***  
Gossip circulates fast in an enclosed environment. On the Enterprise, at least for that particular day, this was especially true.  
  
That morning in the mess hall Sulu disclosed to Chekov what he'd overheard the Captain saying on the intercom.  
  
Later, Chekov told an inquiring Uhura the story. On it went, the story getting longer and more outlandish with each retelling.  
  
The sickbay was crowded that afternoon as more people showed up, each with an excuse to explain their being there.  
  
"Uh, needed ta' get some medical tape fer...me...uh..." Scotty trailed off lamely as he grabbed a box of bandages off the desk, trying to get a good look around the corner.  
  
"I hurt my wrist," a Yeoman mumbled. He ignored McCoy's poking and prodding and stared through the sickbay window, but all he saw was a lump under the covers of a medical bed.  
  
After a few of the security guards stepped in to check a supposed 'hazard alert', McCoy had reached the end of his rope.  
  
"Okay, I see what this is! All of you, out of here! Out!" the doctor shouted, closing the sickbay doors on the shocked face of a young Ensign who really had broken his thumb.  
  
"Grumble grumble idiots grumble nosy grumble ouch, Damnit!!" That was the extent of the good doctor's mumblings to himself as he stalked back to his desk and ran into a filing cabinet.  
*** Uhura was the only one to slip past McCoy's beady eyes and into the sickbay.  
  
That must be her, she thought to herself, spotting the girl sitting up in one of the medical beds.  
  
The communications officer approached the figure and sat down in the chair by the bed. The girl watched her curiously.  
  
What beautiful eyes, Uhura thought to herself.  
  
"Hello. I'm Uhura."  
  
The girl looked for a moment at the woman's outstretched hand, then grasped it with her own.  
  
"Hello," she said shyly. "I am Mika." Her slight accent was noticeable in the stillness of the room.  
  
"We are all very curious about you," Uhura said gently. There was a genuine warmth in the woman's eyes that made Mika want to trust her.  
  
"Curious...about me?"  
  
"Yes. It's not often that we have so mysterious a visitor! Tell me; where do you come from?"  
  
Mika looked down at her hands.  
  
"I have lived on Fortune since I was very small."  
  
"Fortune?" Uhura wrinkled her forehead. "Oh, you mean F-gamma-2."  
  
"Yes. Most recently I was in the possession of a potter. He was not very kind. I was glad when Master Spock bought me from him."  
  
"Bought you? You...you were a slave?" Mika nodded slowly.  
  
"You poor thing! Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore. You're free now."  
  
Mika was confused. "Free? No, I am Master Spock's. I am glad; he seems kind. He does not hit or yell."  
  
Uhura mulled over this information. Surely Spock did not mean to keep the girl as his possession?  
  
She was startled out of her thoughts when the girl reached up to touch her hair.  
  
"Your hair is so lovely," Mika said, admiring the graceful braids Uhura had pinned up.  
  
"I can show you how to fix yours this way," Uhura offered. "Would you like to learn?"  
  
"I would love to! Thank you very much," Mika smiled, surprised at her own happiness. It was the first time she had been happy, truly happy, in a very long time.  
  
*** Later in the afternoon, Uhura visited Mika again. With the doctor's permission the two girls talked and Uhura fixed her new friend's hair. The communications officer had just begun telling Mika about her acquaintances aboard the Enterprise.  
  
"What about Dr. McCoy?" the girl asked. She was becoming more confident in her use of Standard. But for her slight accent, one could not find a flaw in it.  
  
"Oh, he'll have you believe that he's a grumpy old man, but he's really a softie. He and Mr. Spock are the Captain's closest friends."  
  
Mika hesitated before speaking again. She was curious about her rescuer, the Vulcan Spock. She wanted to know about him, but there was something about him that frightened her. In the end she decided to ask.  
  
"Mr. Spock...what is he like?"  
  
Uhura paused thoughtfully in her brushing of the girl's long, dark hair.  
  
"He's... mysterious. Very intelligent, but very quiet. Almost - cold, in a way. But all Vulcans are like that, or so I've heard." She resumed her brushing.  
  
"It's true. Vulcans are cold, in a way. Some would say unfeeling, but not I."  
  
Mika carried within her a memory of her eighth year, of a day when she had been so badly beaten that she could hardly draw breath.  
  
It was a Vulcan man who had lifted her head and cooled her throat with water, and it was the same Vulcan who'd noted indifferently to the girl's master the stupidity of beating one's possession into a state of incapacitation.  
  
Unemotional, yes, but one could not dispute the logic of his argument.  
  
***  
"Okay, Mika, I'm going to show you some letters on the screen, and you tell me which ones you can read clearly."  
  
McCoy spent the rest of the day administering Mika's medical testing per Federation standards. The girl was, for lack of a better word, a mutt.  
  
She had the brain formation particular to Humans, and her heart, though five-chambered like that of the Bajorans, was situated in the left chest cavity as a Human heart would be.  
  
Overall, her organ development was human, but the placement was utterly Bajoran. She had the acute hearing and olfactory senses of the Romulans, but her reflexes were that of a normal human. Her body temperature was 93 degrees Fahrenheit - low for a Human or Romulan but normal for a Bajoran. Her bone structure was completely Romulan, with the warrior race's excellent shock-absorption and muscle support.  
  
All in all, she was a medical mystery - and a miracle. How she ever survived birth - on a planet with very little medical technology, no less! - was beyond McCoy. The odds were surely against a child of such cross-bred genes.  
  
The doctor carried on with thoughts of this vein until he realized that the girl was waiting patiently for his instructions. She was sitting on the edge of the medical table, her semi-bare legs swinging.  
  
Uhura had kindly donated a set of clothing for Mika to wear. They did not realize until her old shift had been destroyed that the girl was far too small for any of Uhura's clothes. In fact, she was smaller than any woman on board. New clothes could not be procured until they reached their next destination, so Uhura's would have to do.  
  
Mika was wearing a blue leisure shirt with the sleeves cuffed several times and a skirt that fell to her knees. She would wear neither shoes nor nylons, much to Uhura's dismay.  
  
McCoy returned to the task at hand, pointing at one of the medium-sized letters on the screen.  
  
"Can you tell me what this says?"  
  
She shook her head slowly.  
  
"What about this?" He indicated a larger letter.  
  
"No."  
  
McCoy was confused. Her other senses were extraordinary! He tried a different approach.  
  
"Mika, can you read that sign?" he asked, pointing to the sign above the recovery room door.  
  
She shook her head again.  
  
He realized what the problem was, and asked kindly, "Can you read at all?"  
  
The girl looked down and said in a small voice, "I never learned."  
  
"Well, you will now. I'll set you up with a few of my old book-tapes, and we'll have you reading in a jiffy."  
  
Mika could scarcely contain her happiness. Food, clothes, and now reading? She had never known such a world existed.  
* Dr. McCoy devoted the next two days to teaching his young patient to read. She learned the Standard alphabet in three hours and could pick out words within the next. Soon after she was devouring his Dr. Suess book-tapes at an incredible speed.  
  
"It took me five years to learn to read," McCoy muttered to Kirk on the second day as they stood in the doctor's office, sharing a drink. "It took her half a day. Makes you feel kinda stupid, doesn't it?"  
  
Mika was certainly progressing, in more ways than one. She had begun to call both the doctor and the captain by name, and she no longer ate like a starving beast. She was not so skitterish, and smiles were more common on her face.  
  
Her bruises were fading, and along with them, her fears. Or so it seemed. 


	5. A Few New Things

Chapter 5  
A Few New Things  
*  
  
Mika stared suspiciously into the cloud of steam emanating from behind the bathroom door. She looked back at Uhura with a quizzical expression on her face. The caramel-colored woman laughed.  
  
"Go on! It won't hurt you, I promise!"  
  
Reluctantly, Mika shed her clothes and stepped, lame foot first, into the shower. She gasped happily as the hot water hit her.  
  
"It's wonderful!" she called.  
  
"I told you," Uhura said back. "Here's some shampoo. Wash your hair with it."  
  
It was Mika's fourth day aboard the Enterprise and her first day out of the recovery room. She had been released by the doctor after some discussion over where she would stay.  
  
Uhura would have gladly shared her quarters with the girl, but her rooms were full; Lt. Jesse Warner, a warp-drive technician and Uhura's longtime friend, was occupying the couch until she could procure her own room.  
  
McCoy checked the crew roster several times, but the outcome was the same: there were simply no unoccupied quarters on board.  
  
The Andorian diplomats were occupying the only guest wing, and would be doing so until they got to Starbase 12.  
  
In the end a cot was set up for her in Spock's quarters. This satisfied everyone except the Andorians, who would have complained regardless of the situation.  
  
Mika spent her first day of freedom with Uhura, who introduced her to one of the galaxy's greatest inventions - the shower.  
  
Jesse Warner, sitting on the couch with a PADD in her hands, chuckled at the girl's exclamation of delight.  
  
The Lt. was a lovely and talented young woman from San Francisco. She'd graduated top of her class at the Academy and now had the unique opportunity to work under Mr. Scott, the best engineer in the fleet. She had sandy hair and blue eyes that snapped with intelligence.  
  
Uhura joined her friend on the couch.  
  
"Well, what do you think about Mika? She's sweet, isn't she?"  
  
A slightly obscene drinking song floated out of the shower room. Uhura blushed, and Jesse giggled.  
  
"I think she needs to teach us that song!" she said, prompting Uhura to bean her over the head with a pillow.  
*  
  
Mika stood in the semi-darkness of Spock's quarters, feeling vaguely out-of- place.  
  
Uhura had given her a tour of the ship, then shown her to the Vulcan's rooms.  
  
Spock had greeted her arrival with a curt nod, then returned to his computer console, leaving the girl to her own devices.  
  
She'd wandered around, admiring the strange statues and weaponry that decorated the rooms. Spock retired to his sleeping chamber, and she continued her investigation of his quarters.  
  
She was gazing at a hologram of a Vulcan man and a Human woman holding a baby in their arms.  
  
The couple were touching their first two fingers together in a solemn declaration of love while the dark-eyed infant looked on.  
  
"Do you require anything?"  
  
Mika whirled around, startled, to find Spock standing behind her. He was dressed in a flowing robe, his hands clasped behind his back, his face calm.  
  
"N-n-no," she stammered, her eyes on the floor. "I am fine. Thank you, sir."  
  
He nodded. "Very well. Have a pleasant sleep, Miss Atira."  
  
"Mr. Spock, sir -" He turned at the door to his sleeping chamber.  
  
Mika bowed slightly. "Thank you for letting me stay here. I won't be a nuisance, I promise."  
  
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow, and his mouth quirked upward in what might have been a wry smile.  
  
"Indeed," was all he said. "Goodnight." He turned on his heel and the door swished behind him.  
*  
  
When Spock awoke the next morning at precisely 6:15 he found himself alone in his quarters. The cot had been folded and placed in the closet along with the blanket the girl had used.  
  
The mirror in his bathroom had been cleaned, and his desktops dusted. The statues lining the walls were also devoid of dust. Opening his drawers, he found that his uniforms had been pressed.  
  
His boots had been shined. How could that be? He set them next to his bed last night. Surely he would have heard the girl come in his room?  
  
He pondered this while pulling on his newly-blackened boots. Perhaps the child would not be a nuisance, after all.  
*  
"Memo. To Captain Kirk. The med...med...med-i-cine. Is...complet-y? Com-ple- tee... ...complete! The medicine is complete!"  
  
Mika was walking with her uneven gait towards the turbolift with a PADD in her hands.  
  
After cleaning her host's quarters, she had gone to help Dr. McCoy in the sickbay, and was now delivering a message to be signed by the Captain.  
  
It was taking her awhile to get to the lift, however, because she couldn't help but read everything she saw. She was so absorbed in sounding out the Doctor's memo that she rounded a corner and ran smack into someone.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she cried.  
  
Mr. Sulu retrieved her PADD from where it had gone flying and smiled apologetically.  
  
"Here you go, miss. It was my fault, really." He studied her quizzically, from bare feet to unruly black hair.  
  
"Hey, aren't you the new girl from Fortune?"  
  
She nodded, and he stuck out his hand.  
  
"Glad we finally ran into each other! I'm Sulu, the navigations officer."  
  
Mika shook his hand. "I'm Atira Mikal."  
  
"The pleasure's all mine. Say, are you doing anything this evening, miss?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
Sulu grinned. "Why don't you come over to Rec. Room 5? A few of us are going to play da'al darts, and I bet you have a great arm. Everyone would love to meet you."  
  
Mika straightened her borrowed tunic, then glanced up tentatively.  
  
"I - I would enjoy that."  
  
"Great! We'll start around seven. See you there!"  
  
The young man trotted off down the corridor, leaving Mika with a nauseous mix of excitement and apprehension in her stomach.  
  
** "Come on...Yes!!!" The room erupted in cheers as Sulu's dart hit the spinning target.  
  
Chekov stopped the wheel, pouting, as Mika counted out the tokens.  
  
"That's 17 for team one, 12 for team two. Uhura, you're up next."  
  
The da'al darts game was in full swing. Except for the unlucky ensign who had intercepted one of Chekov's wild throws, everyone was enjoying themselves.  
  
It turned out that Mika had quite a good aim, and she and Sulu made a good team.  
  
A pile of credit-chips lay in the middle of the table, the prize for the game. The winning team would be determined by the next two throws.  
  
Uhura's dart embedded itself in the outer circle of the wheel, earning five points.  
  
It was silent as Mika picked up her dart. With a flip of her wrist she set it sailing into the center circle.  
  
"We won!" Sulu hugged his partner, then swept the tokens toward them.  
  
"What do you say, Miss Atira? Right down the middle?"  
  
"I don't know. What are they?" Mika asked.  
  
"Vhat are they! These are credit-chips," Chekov answered, sweeping unruly hair from his eyes. "You put them in the computer and they register as money."  
  
"Oh. I suppose I would like some," Mika agreed.  
  
"Well, you deserve it," Sulu said with a smile as he counted the tokens. "It was your good hand that won the game!"  
  
Uhura flicked a dart across the table at her friend.  
  
"Yeah, you're pretty good for someone who's never played before. Are you sure you weren't cheating?" she teased.  
  
Jesse laughed from across the room. She was trying to write a report and visit with her friends simultaneously, and it wasn't working.  
  
"Look at that innocent face!" she said, pointing at Mika with her stylus. "Is that the face of a cheater?"  
  
"Vhat about me? I have an innocent face, also!" Chekov widened his eyes and pasted on a vaguely disturbing smile.  
  
"Yeah, about as innocent as a shark," Sulu remarked as he elbowed his friend in the side.  
***  
  
Later that evening, Spock returned to his quarters to find Mika at the table with a book-tape. She was studying it intently and did not notice him. Entering his room, he found 15 credit-chips lying in a neat pile on his bed.  
  
"Are these yours?" he asked her as he came out of the room, holding them in his palm.  
  
Mika started, then looked up and shook her head. "I won at darts. That was my prize."  
  
The Vulcan held the coins out to her. "Then they are yours."  
  
She cocked her head to one side with a quizzical expression. "I have acquired money for you. Is this not right?"  
  
"Mika, why would you give me what you won for yourself?" he asked.  
  
"You are my master. If I acquire something of value, it is yours by law."  
  
The Vulcan raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Your master? The Federation does not allow slavery. You are free, by our law."  
  
She furrowed her brow, uncomprehending.  
  
"Free? I have no master?"  
  
"You are your own master now," Spock stated.  
  
"But you bought me- "  
  
"I did so in order to bring you aboard the Enterprise for medical assistance. I could see no other way to do so without risking injury."  
  
She stared with solemn eyes at him, then at his outstretched hand which held the coins. She pushed it away.  
  
"Then those are yours, as restitution for what you paid."  
  
The Vulcan shook his head. "No. Those were my wages, spent freely."  
  
He took her hand in his own and poured the tokens into her cupped palm.  
  
She stared at his back as he walked away. She could still feel his warm hand on hers.  
  
Free. 


	6. A Study Of Violence In Females

Chapter 6  
A Study Of Violence In Females  
  
Nurse Chapel was having a rather bad day.  
  
Her new shampoo had turned her hair a rather nasty shade of orange, which she was hiding under a cap.  
  
While getting dressed she had stubbed her toe and knocked over a vase.  
  
While tidying up the doctor's study ("Do I look like a janitor to you?") she had tripped on an empty case of Romulan Ale and sent the file cabinet flying.  
  
Now the replicator was malfunctioning and it wouldn't make her favorite cabbage soup.  
  
Chapel was sitting in the mess hall, poking sullenly at a plate of salad.  
  
Across from her, Yeoman Janice Rand was chattering about some guy she'd met yesterday.  
  
"And he's like, 'Do you want to come over to my place?' and I'm all, 'What should I wear?' and then he was like-"  
  
"It's her," Chapel interrupted.  
  
The yeoman followed her gaze to the mess hall entrance.  
  
"You mean Lt. Uhura? You know, I heard that she was having an affair with an ensign, can you imagine?-"  
  
"No, not her," Chapel said impatiently. "The other one. The dark-haired waif in the blue uniform."  
  
"Oh." Rand blinked. She was considered the queen of ship gossip and it was rare that she didn't know the who, what, when, where, and why of every person aboard.  
  
"I've never seen her," she admitted at length. "Who is she?"  
  
"That's just it," Chapel commented, watching the small girl follow Uhura through the replicator line.  
  
"No one seems to know! She was in the sickbay when I got back from shore leave on Fortune, but the doctor won't tell me where's she from. The name on the records is Atira Mikal."  
  
The nurse grinned nastily, realizing that this was a perfect way to get that brat. She leaned across the table.  
  
"I heard she's living in Mr. Spock's quarters," she whispered conspiratorially. "I wonder if she's...you know?"  
  
Rand's too-close eyes grew large at the thought of such a juicy rumor - a girl sleeping with Mr. Spock!  
  
A few yards away, Uhura was ordering a triple-fudge banana split for she and Mika to share.  
  
"You're gonna love this!" she exclaimed happily.  
  
Mika was fiddling with the belt on her jumpsuit.  
  
"Are you sure I don't look ridiculous?" she asked for the fourth time.  
  
Uhura took in the girl's appearance with a practiced eye.  
  
She was wearing one of Jesse's uniforms which had been tucked in and brought up so that it fit the girl perfectly. Her dark hair was pulled up in a french braid, and she was wearing a smudge of lipstick.  
  
Uhura mentally congratulated herself. Even the shoe problem is fixed, she thought smugly.  
  
Mika had refused to put on any kind of shoes - and in truth, what shoes would fit her misshapen foot? - so they had left the pants long and cuffed them so her feet didn't show.  
  
"Mika, you look gorgeous," Uhura said.  
  
The girl blushed and smiled. "It is thanks to you," she deferred, but she was pleased.  
  
They scouted out a table and made their way through the crowded cafeteria, passing Chapel and Rand as they went.  
  
There was no love lost between Chapel and Uhura, and the latter made a point to ignore the former. It was because Uhura wasn't looking that she didn't see the foot in her path. She tripped and went flying, her coffee spilling everywhere.  
  
"You should watch where you're going, Lt.," the nurse said sweetly.  
  
"And you should watch those gangly legs of yours," Uhura said with thinly veiled disgust as she picked herself up off the floor.  
  
Rand shifted in her seat, so as to get a better look at the two women. This was going to be good.  
  
"Are you threatening me?" Chapel asked calmly.  
  
"It's not a threat, just a warning. I wouldn't want to be responsible for any accidents you might have," Uhura said innocently.  
  
"The captain doesn't allow violence on this ship."  
  
"Oh, the captain and I are good friends. I think he'd make a allowance."  
  
Chapel rolled her eyes. "Please, Uhura. Just because you'll give yourself any man doesn't mean you have any authority."  
  
"Don't say that about Uhura!" Mika, who had been watching the confrontation in silence, now spoke up. "It's not true."  
  
Chapel smirked at the small girl. "You would know, wouldn't you? You must be the best of all - you even got a Vulcan to sleep with you!"  
  
Mika leapt on the nurse with a shriek of rage.  
  
Rand gasped as Chapel began to scream. The small girl was furious and stronger than she looked. She was going to pull Chapel's platinum blond hair out by the roots!  
  
The yeoman jumped up and tried to yank the girl off the screaming Chapel. That having failed, she picked up her tray and began to hit Mika in the head with it.  
  
"Get off! Get off!"  
  
Uhura had frozen, but as Rand began to whack the girl's head she burst into action.  
  
Thinking fast, the communications officer scooped the banana split off the floor from where Mika had dropped it and hurled it at Yeoman Rand.  
  
The ice-cream concoction hit Janice square in the face. Startled and blinded by whipped cream, she dropped her tray and began to paw frantically at her eyes.  
  
Uhura dashed past the yeoman and grabbed hold of Mika's shoulders.  
  
"Mika, stop! Let go, Mika!" She gave a great tug and pulled the girl off of Chapel, who was still screaming bloody murder.  
  
By this time, McCoy, Kirk, and Spock - who had been having their own lunch on the other side of the mess hall - had arrived.  
  
"What in the blue blazes of Hell is going on?" the doctor asked incredulously.  
  
Chapel, who was sitting on the floor with a bloody nose, sniffled.  
  
Rand blinked up at him through a face-full of fudge.  
  
Mika looked sheepishly at the ground.  
  
Uhura wiped a bit of ice-cream off her chin and tried for a smile as Spock frowned.  
  
Captain Kirk's usually jovial face was dark with anger. The entire mess hall was quiet as he pointed to the doors.  
  
"Sickbay. All of you. Now."  
  
***  
  
Mika crossed her arms and stared sullenly at the doctor through the haze of a shiny black eye.  
  
"Now, Nurse Chapel told me that you attacked her for no reason. Is this true?"  
  
She looked around the doctor's study, which was empty save McCoy and herself, then slowly shook her head.  
  
"Well, why'd you do it, Mika?"  
  
Dr. McCoy was genuinely confused. The girl was, to his knowledge, shy, gentle, and unassuming - yet for some reason she'd tried to bash the living daylights out of his nurse!  
  
Silence.  
  
McCoy stood up. "Alright. You can go to your quarters. Put some ice on that eye, though."  
  
"And Mika - " She turned around in the doorway. "You can always come to me if you need to talk."  
  
He sighed and returned to sickbay. Uhura hurried up to him from where she had been waiting.  
  
"Dr. McCoy, it isn't Mika's fault! Nurse Chapel- "  
  
"Miss Uhura, please slow down. Can you tell me what Miss Chapel said to Mika?"  
  
McCoy respected Chapel professionally, but he was not a fool. He knew that she could be very cruel when she wanted to.  
  
Uhura fidgeted, twirling her hair apprehensively.  
  
"Mika and I were carrying our food through the table, and Chapel tripped me.  
  
"I told her to watch where she put her feet, and she said that I shouldn't threaten her, because the captain didn't allow violence on the ship.  
  
"Then she said - well, she said I was a loose woman."  
  
Here she blushed angrily.  
  
"And what did she say to Mika?"  
  
"Well, Mika told Chapel not to say things like that about me, because they weren't true."  
  
There was a glimmer of pride for her friend's loyalty in Uhura's eyes.  
  
"And Chapel said that Mika was the loosest of all because... she'd slept with a Vulcan."  
  
Oh. Now he understood.  
  
"Thank you, Lieutenant. You may return to your station."  
  
***  
  
Mika sat on her cot, watching Spock at his computer. The Vulcan's face was as impassive and unreadable as always, but she knew he was displeased.  
  
She hunched her shoulders submissively, waiting for the angry blow that was sure to come.  
  
He had not spoken since she had returned from the sickbay. He had not even looked at her. Did he know she was here?  
  
Mika fidgeted uncomfortably, hiding her clubfoot behind the other. She wished that he would beat her and get it over with.  
  
Finally he stood up. She closed her eyes, counting his footsteps as he came closer. She would not cry out.  
  
Spock sat down on the cot next to her.  
  
"Mika."  
  
She opened her eyes. He was staring intently at her face.  
  
"Are you in pain?" he asked.  
  
She touched the bruise that circled her right eye. "No."  
  
His gaze became harder. "You have disgraced yourself."  
  
Realizing that he was not going to hit her, she became bold.  
  
"I was defending my name! The nurse- "  
  
"People will speak wrongly of you throughout your life," he interrupted coldly. "You would do well to control your emotions."  
  
He touched her black eye, and his voice softened.  
  
"It was a foolish thing to do. You were fighting against one bigger and stronger than yourself. You could not have won."  
  
Mika stiffened slightly.  
  
"Just because I am small does not mean I cannot fight," she protested.  
  
Spock studied the girl next to him. With her fists clenched and her face scratched and bruised, she looked like a prizefighter fresh from the ring.  
  
"No," he mused. "I suppose it does not. But I trust you will refrain from doing so in the future?"  
  
"I will not shame you again," she said earnestly. "It was wrong of me - even though I know she is mistaken. I did not seduce you."  
  
"Is that what Nurse Chapel said?" the Vulcan asked, frowning. Mika nodded.  
  
"She is a foolish woman. Pay her no mind."  
  
***  
  
Illogical.  
  
The fire at the foot of the Vulcan statue flickered, casting light and shadows over Spock's bedchamber. The statue seemed to stare at him, burning the word into his mind.  
  
Illogical.  
  
Why must women be so illogical? This girl-child had attacked a crew member. She should be punished - but he could not bring himself to speak to the captain about it.  
  
She had been wrong to assail the nurse, but Chapel had no doubt brought it upon herself.  
  
The Vulcan sighed and rubbed his temples. Here, in the solitude of his bedroom, he could allow his shields to slip. In the quiet of his private chamber he could do as he wished.  
  
He opened the lowest drawer in his bureau and took out an old, leather- bound book. It was his mother's heirloom Bible, passed down through the generations.  
  
Whenever she was anxious or worried, it was Amanda's practice to read whichever page it fell open to.  
  
A primitive practice, Spock had once said, but he found it soothing as well.  
  
The spine creaked as it fell open. Spock began to read.  
  
You have ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse. You have ravished my heart with one look of your eyes, with one link of your necklace -  
  
He shut the book and returned it to the drawer.  
  
Illogical.  
  
The flames leapt higher, casting shadows on the ceiling, and the statue's eyes seemed to glint with a strange, forbidden knowledge.  
  
Illogical. 


	7. The Color Of Regret

Chapter 7  
The Color Of Regret  
***  
  
Mika spent the rest of the day in sickbay, cleaning and filing. Chapel was nowhere to be found, and for this the girl was glad. She was ashamed of her actions, but too proud yet to apologize.  
  
She found herself working extra hard, as if to atone for her deeds. The sickbay underwent extensive scrubbing, each bio-bed was completely sterilized, and even the doctor's study was well dusted.  
  
"You could just say you're sorry," McCoy said wryly from behind her.  
  
Mika looked over her shoulder and flicked a bit of soapy water at the grinning man.  
  
"You're welcome!" she said. Then, "I am sorry, Bones. And ashamed. I just don't know what came over me."  
  
He sat on the edge of his desk and watched her thoughtfully.  
  
"Uhura told me what Nurse Chapel said," he ventured.  
  
Mika blew a bit of hair out of her eyes as she surveyed the gleaming floor. "Did she?"  
  
He nodded. "I just wanted you to know that everyone makes mistakes once in a while. Spock's my friend, and I've wanted to strangle him a few times. Hell, I have strangled him a few times!"  
  
She giggled.  
  
"Just - don't sweat it, okay, missy? But don't go beating up my nurses anymore, either. I might need them."  
  
Mika smiled and put her hand in the doctor's. "It's a deal."  
  
McCoy started to rise, but she put her other hand on his arm to stop him. She was looking intently into his eyes.  
  
"So blue," she said.  
  
McCoy chuckled. "Blue eyes do seem to be a rare commodity in the galaxy."  
  
She touched her own eyes (one of which was still black) thoughtfully.  
  
"I had a child with blue eyes once," she said.  
  
"What! You have a child?"  
  
"Had. They took him from me before he was a week old. He was so beautiful, so pale." She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.  
  
"I was only twelve, not strong enough to give milk. I could not care for him. But his eyes. They were ha'pla'kur, sky-colored."  
  
McCoy's heart wrenched inside him at the thought of her belly swollen at twelve years old.  
  
"Did you know the father?"  
  
She nodded. "He was my third master. He sold me to the Cardassian, who sold me to Mr. Spock." She looked off into space.  
  
"I wish I knew where they sold him," she said, almost to herself.  
  
"Oh, Mika." He pulled her into a fierce hug. "I'm so sorry."  
  
She drew away after a few seconds, calming herself.  
  
"I haven't thought of it for a very long time. I - " She broke off and smiled half-heartedly.  
  
"Thank you, doctor. You are a good friend to me."  
  
Saying this, she leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, then turned and walked away.  
  
McCoy stared after her, his brow creased in troubled thought.  
  
***  
Spock strode out of the sickbay doors, the PADD in his hand forgotten. He was unable to name the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. What the doctor did in his spare time was his own business. Why had he felt so wronged, seeing McCoy hold the girl in his arms? Hadn't he just told Mika she was her own master? She was free to do as she wanted.  
  
Spock only wished, illogically, that she had chosen another path. 


	8. Dreaming

***  
Chapter 8  
Dreaming  
***  
  
That night the Vulcan awoke to the sound of frightened sobbing. Slipping a robe over his bare body he padded through the door and towards the cot where Mika lay.  
  
The girl was crying out in her sleep, her legs twitching under the blankets. Her face was pale and drawn, without the peace that dreaming often brings.  
  
"Mika," Spock said firmly. "Wake up."  
  
She took no notice of his presence.  
  
He gently shook her shoulders, calling her name, but she did not respond. Instead, she began to cry louder, and to thrash her limbs wildly.  
  
Lucid dreaming. The doctor said it is a common predicament. He also said that some have injured themselves during this level of unconsciousness.  
  
Mika began to moan pitifully, as if she were being tortured. Her face was twisted into a mask of horror.  
  
Spock tried again to wake her, with no success. He was about to call for the doctor when he realized an obvious solution.  
  
There is no need to wake Dr. McCoy. I will mind-meld with the girl and help her to regain consciousness.  
  
Pleased with himself at discovering such a logical answer, he knelt beside the bed and placed graceful fingers on the girl's face.  
  
The edges between their minds blurred, merged, and faded, and Spock was sucked into the whirling vortex of Mika's dream.  
***  
  
He was standing in a field of blue flowers. The suns were shining brightly from above, bathing the field in warmth and light.  
  
No, wait - not flowers - eyes, blue eyes staring at him. He screamed and the field folded in on itself.  
  
Dr. McCoy's smiling face appeared, but as he watched it morphed into that of an infant's. Her infant's.  
  
Another image. A man was staring down at him, smiling like a crocodile, reaching out to them.  
  
"You know you owe your life to me, girl. Why not show a little gratitude?"  
  
Then the Cardassian, in one of his drunken rages, screaming.  
  
"Stupid cripple! Mixed-blood good-for-nothing! Your father should have thrown you in the river the day you were born, like the bitch pup you are!"  
  
His face changed into that of a wizened old humanoid woman with white unseeing eyes.  
  
"You know you can't run, ha'yar-kur ko-kan, little green-eyed one. You are a child of Fortune. The dice always rolls snake eyes for Fortune's children! You'll be back, no matter how far you run. Heh heh heh ..." the old woman cackled.  
  
She held something in her hands, a loop of leather with a buckle of steel. It was the slave collar they had worn.  
  
"No!" someone shouted. It was Mika. Wind whipped her face, blowing her hair about and stealing the voice from her mouth. Spock was standing beside her. Before them stretched an endless wasteland.  
  
"Your childhood," the crone said, gesturing to the wide expanse of desert. She smiled at Mika, displaying several missing teeth.  
  
"Come back, little daughter. You know that Fortune is the only place you belong. Come back! I can make you the princess of thieves, the queen of the whores..." the woman held the leather circle out. The metal clasp glinted in the light.  
  
"All you must do is put it on. Return to me!"  
  
"NO!" Tears were streaming down Mika's face, but she wore a fierce look beneath them.  
  
"This is always what happens. She hands me the collar, but when I touch it I turn to bone! Please, help me stop her!"  
  
Spock stepped towards the old woman, shielding his eyes from the dust.  
  
She began to shout at him.  
  
"You stay away! Don't you touch me, Vulcan! You don't belong here. Get back!"  
  
Spock could walk no further. It was as if an invisible wall was against him and the cruel old woman.  
  
"You must destroy it yourself. I cannot do it for you!" he shouted over the wind.  
  
The girl reached out. She touched the crone, who began to scream, her figure distorting.  
  
"No! You mustn't! I can help you, I can save you...!"  
  
The collar dropped with a rattle onto the dusty ground. She picked it up and tore it asunder with her bare hands. The two halves shrunk and disappeared.  
  
"I did it!" Mika yelled.  
  
"But how do we get home?"  
  
Spock grabbed her hand. "We will take the express train," he said absurdly. The blue-eyed flowers began to laugh.  
  
*** They woke to find themselves seated on the cot.  
  
Mika took two deep breaths, blinked several times, then collapsed into his arms, sobbing.  
  
The Vulcan, still connected by the meld, was shocked to find tears streaming down his face as well. He struggled to control himself, but Mika's emotional turmoil was crashing across the borders of his mind. He could feel her heart beating against his bare chest, a testimony to her fright.  
  
After several minutes Mika's sobs turned to sniffles. She sat up and wiped her face on her sleeve.  
  
"I'm sorry," she hiccuped, drying her tears, "I've gotten your robe all wet!"  
  
This statement was so ludicrous that she began to laugh. Spock smiled imperceptibly, then frowned.  
  
"I believe I understand now what I did not earlier," he said.  
  
"What do you mean?" Mika asked, her giggles subsiding.  
  
"Yesterday I saw you and the doctor embracing in his study. Having shared a mind-meld with you, I now understand the meaning of the incident."  
  
"Oh, Mr. Spock, you didn't think...!" She broke off, bit her lip thoughtfully.  
  
"I was mistaken. Please forgive me," he said gravely.  
  
"Of course!" she answered easily. "And, Mr. Spock, what you did...thank you."  
  
He could feel the sincerity of the statement resonating in her mind, and something else as well, something far stronger and slightly concealed. He withdrew quickly, then stood.  
  
"Sleep well, Mika."  
  
She nodded her affirmative, and watched as he returned to his room.  
  
The girl lay back on her cot with the very strange sensation that neither of them would remember the incident in the morning. 


End file.
